


Funding Fathers

by LoveRobin



Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consensual Underage Sex, F/F, F/M, Incest, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Multi, Parent/Child Incest, Penis In Vagina Sex, Prostitution, Shotacon, Underage Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29074512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveRobin/pseuds/LoveRobin
Summary: Usually barely meeting cheerleading funding quotas, an indecent proposal is suggested to the squads…Things get waayy out of hand.
Relationships: Bonnie Rockwaller/Original Male Character(s), James Possible/Kim Possible, Marcella (Kim Possible)/Liz (Kim Possible), Tara (Kim Possible)/Brick Flagg
Kudos: 4





	1. Indecent Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> Kim Possible and Co. ©Disney, McCorkle, and Schooley  
> All treatments of characters ©LoveRobin
> 
> This may be structured as an anthology or collection. It'll have an introductory chapter setting up the premise, then individual chapters following specific characters in turn.

_**Funding Fathers  
**_ Chapter One—Indecent Proposal

"Girls, girls," Kim clapped her hands to cut through the music and laughter.

Whoever was on music turned the beatbox down low. Not all the way off, but nearly so, leaving a background soundtrack to frustrate anyone—since this time Kim was hosting the squad meet at her place, it specifically meant her twin brothers—trying to listen in, and could be easily turned up as needed.  
  
Because of its size and amenities, Kim's house was the squad's favorite place to have out-of-school cheerleader events. Meetings, sleepovers, backyard picnics, and the like. Especially when more than just the First String lineup.  
  
This weekend's activities also included the deputy cheerleaders who ran the other cheer strings. Because the _entire_ lineup of the MHS cheerleaders the year before Kim joined were elitist, accepting _only_ seniors, the entirety of the high school cheer squad all graduated at the same time.  
  
Leaving the new incoming captain—Kim, as _en masse_ the rest except Bonnie went 'not it!' Kim got the job due to her ability on the elementary squads to perform Bonnie's toughest routines, which even Bonnie could not pull off—with empty rosters to quickly run auditions to repopulate.

The way she set things up was, aside from the mute Marcella, each girl on First String was responsible for one of the lower strings. The lead, or deputy, cheerleader of each squad reported stats, needs, issues, and concerns to their First String liaisons. Who then passed them on to Tara Flagg, the First Strings' deputy. Who, in turn, conveyed it all to Captain Kim and Lieutenant Bonnie.

Bonnie's one abortive two-week stint as captain revealed to her and all that she truly shined as the squad lieutenant. Not only could she keep the girls in line whenever the captain's hero-work pulled her away, but she enjoyed handing everything back for Kim to continue doing the 'heavy lifting' of administration.

"Alright, girls! You each got your plates of food, time to eat quietly and listen up!" the lieutenant's voice rang out from near the vicinity of Kim's bed.

The general volume lowered as the First String plus deputies cut chattering with each other, mainly between deputies and their liaisons.

"Okay," Kim nodded to Bonnie first in thanks, then to Marcella, now on beatbox duty, who thumbs-upped her readiness.

"This weekend is for brainstorming fundraising ideas. As you know, the 'previous management' never hit their goals and last season, _we just barely_ eked in under our goals.

"This year, we've also got repairs and maintenance for Ol' Pete the school bus, and they're hefty. So we need some _good_ ideas."

The girls began calling out suggestions. Kim tried to pick out a couple of the better ones.

"Carwash!"  
"Calendar!"  
"Topless carwash."  
"Food and can drive."  
"Sexy calendar."  
"Dog walking!"  
"Topless calendar."  
"Sell blowjobs."  
"House cleaning in our uniforms!"

"Alright, alright, thank you, thank you. Quite a list so far." Kim raised her hands for silence. "I've got to say, most of those are either going to make us look like sluts, or get us molested."

"It's not molesting if you enjoy it!"  
"Many of us _are_ sluts."  
"Hey! I resemble that remark"  
"Thass why I says'd it!"

Whistles, catcalls, and raucous laughter filled the loft bedroom.

"Wait a minute, waitaminnit…," Kim cut through the racket. To Tara, who as usual was actually lounging stretched out across her captain's bed, "Did I hear something about blowjobs?"

The sunny blonde nodded, turquoise eyes sparkling. Kim was asking her deputy because as she has a hyperthymic memory, or as Bonnie described it, "A DVR for a brain". The girl remembered _everything_ she saw or heard around her—even while asleep.

"Yep," she pointed to one of the deputies. "It was Bree. Third String."

Bonnie 'Bree' Rottweiler— _very often_ confused for the other Bonnie—blushed under the scrutiny of the redheaded captain.

"Really, Bree? Really? _Selling_ blowjobs? Have you any idea how uneth—"

"How much?"  
"To who?"

"I was thinking seventy dollars a pop. Maybe ten off for repeat loyal customers."

"I hope not to just anyone," Hope shuddered, "Not dirty old men and ugly bastards."

"Wait, y'can't be seriously considering this?"

Bonnie interjected, "Why not? Some of us are already doing blowies after just a couple dates and the jocks—"

"Jocks I can see. Buncha hungry bastids."

"—for free. And that's not even talking about the proposals we get just walking down the halls at school, in stores, and on the streets."

"If I had a seventy for every proposition I get, my bank account would be sitting pretty."

"What if," Liz read as Marcella signed, "we get actual propositions?"

"Meaning what?"

The mute girl whistled while making the _finger in and out circled thumb and finger_ gesture.

" _EWW!_ Definitely NOT ugly bastards and D.O.M.s!"

"How about stepfathers?"  
"Y'dinn't just say—"  
"Stepfathers, sure," another of the string deputies offered. "Most of them have either bad marriages, roving eyes, and are desperate to make nice and bond with their stepdaughters. Show their wives that they got this melding family thing under control."

"That's… interesting. Some may be desperate enough for all three. They'd not only be anxious for a good knob-polishing but willing pay for it…"

"Most men are willing for a bit of 'out of town strange'."

"And us being cheerleaders is already fantasy fodder," Jessica or Maggie—the twins were always difficult as they enthusiastically subscribed to being fully identical.

"No matter how I'm dressed, I can feel my stepdad's eyes following me around. Especially when he's trying to pretend he's reading or watching a game. I'm sure he'd jump at a chance to blow down my throat."

"But not all of us have stepdads."  
"Father's, then."

The group got so quiet at once it was almost a record scratch.

"Each others', or our own?" Crystal asked.

Bree continued, "Does it really matter? Sure we hang out with each other enough we can cover lookout for one of us blowing someone's dad… but logistically, it makes more sense, is safer, if we each blow our own."

"Go on."

"Look, it'll be easier access. We know when our mom will be out and we can approach dad nearly anytime. Where a mother might get suss of finding a young sexpot alone with her husband, there's almost no issue finding us with our own dads. Even in our own bedrooms, no matter how we're dressed.

"We're bound to get passes."

"Best I have to a father figure," Tara said, "is my brother, Brick."  
"Brothers can do in pinches."  
"I'm sure all my brothers would fuck me, so selling them on blowjobs would be cake."  
"My brothers are practically begging me to blow them now."  
"Fucks should be more! Like a hundred, hundred-twenty."  
"Man, we'd be _raking in_ major coin!"

Indicating to Marcella to raise the music level some, Kim lifted her voice accordingly, "To be clear, we're talking about incest. That includes stepfathers. Even though not considered blood, marriage is enough.  
  
"This can't _seriously_ be what y'all are considering?"

Bonnie, "Kim, what happens in The Locker Rooms, Stays in The Locker Rooms."

Each present knew that 'locker room' included meets like the one they were at.

"How about an investigatory trial run? A proof of concept?" asked Linda, the Second String deputy.

"Like, how?"

"Like, we pick two of us to try approaching our dads and report back at Tuesday's practice how it went. If we see cash, I say we all do it."

"Hey, yeah."  
"Works for me!"

Things were spinning out of control faster than Kim could deal, "Who, then?"

Tara Flagg raised a hand. "I'm sure I can interest Brick."

"No challenge there! He'll fuck anything with a pussy!"  
"Isn't he already fucking y'alls mom?"  
"But the challenge will be to see if he'll _pay_ for blowjobs when he can get fucks for free…"

With a smug smile, teal eyes glinting, Bonnie added, "I'm sure our good captain will lead us by example.

When all faces turned to Kim, all she could do was nod. Her lieutenant was right about leading through example. Although she herself rarely did. "Yeah, Okay. We'll take stock Tuesday at all-day practice.

"For now, I say we finish the meals Flora slaved half the day making, and then on to the rest of the weekend's fun stuff."

As the rest cheered, Kim tried to not think about what she had signed up for. _I couldn't really do dad… could I?_

The rest of the weekend festivities passed with hardly a word about the indecent proposal, as did Monday, although there was an unconfirmed rumor of Brick's sister hanging out for a couple of hours in Jock Territory, their own locker rooms.

Finally, it was Tuesday, the full-day practice with all squads, including the elementary school's younger Fifth String.

After attendance was called and all counted as there, the girls looked to the First String's captain and deputy.

Smiling, Tara showed a wad which had to be three or four times the cost of one blowjob.

_Shit. Shouldn't be surprised the walking sex siblings would do it._

Kim flashed green in a pocket of her cheer duffle. _Good thing I got to the bank yesterday. I couldn't work up the courage to approach dad._

As the girls cheered their new fundraising strategy, all Kim could think, _My bank account can't support procrastinating very long….  
_

* * *

> Tara Flagg  
> Monday afternoon  
> Jocks' Locker Rooms  
>   
> "Hey, uhh… Brick Flagg…," Brack paused his saunter past his teammate.
> 
> " _mmmm_ Yah?"
> 
> "Isn't that, uhh, Tara, uhm, Flagg…?" asked Nick Nack, pointing.  
>   
> "Yeah, Sis, jes' like that…Yup, sure is!"
> 
> From where she was sitting on a bench with crossed legs, her brother's standing naked bulk looming over her with his towel about his shoulders, the sunny blonde cheerleader did a four-fingered 'flapper wave' with her right hand, acknowledging the group of jocks growing about them.
> 
> "Your… sister…," Paddy Waxx added.
> 
> "Sure the fuck is!"
> 
> "…giving you a blowjob?" Brack asked, incredulous at what he was seeing.
> 
> "She sure the fuck is… yeah, Babe. Keep that up. I'm really close— _oooo yeeesss_ "
> 
> "Yer sis is giving you a blowjob, right here in the jock country locker room?" Nick Nack summed up.
> 
> "Yeah, Babe, really close…"
> 
> "For fuckin' real?"
> 
> "Ohhhh, yessss."
> 
> "Your _sister_??"
> 
> "Hey, was— _ooooo—_ her idear."
> 
> "Whoa. My sister's kinda plain, but I'd not turn down an offer of a blowie from her."
> 
> "Your sister, Paddy? Neither would I!"
> 
> "Hey, now…"
> 
> "Hush the noise," Brick grunted as he started thrusting his hips in earnest.  
>   
> Feeling her brother tensing up, Tara increased how hard she sucked and how fast she bobbed her head back and forth on her brother's long, hard shaft, leaning into him, gripping the edge of the bench with both hands. The blonde jock's rocking hips sent his turgid cock plunging harder and deeper to the back of his cheerleader sister's throat, his cockhead slipping past her nonexistent gag reflex to the very opening of her throat, his grip on her long hair tugging her forward.
> 
> "FUCK!!"  
>   
> The pair of Flaggs held the pose as the brother's cock exploded in the sister's mouth. For nearly two minutes he unloaded rope after rope of his babymaking batter into his sister's mouth. She gulped loudly each time she swallowed a mouthful, it obvious she was taking it like a pro right into her stomach, turquoise eyes sparkling with glee.  
>   
> "That was fuckin' awesome!" murmurs of appreciative agreement.  
>   
> After a final flick of her tongue to scoop up the last drops of jizz from his still hard cockhead, Tara sat back with a grin, fingers wiping errant drips of cum back to her mouth. She sucked clean each fingertip.

> "Mmm, nice! Totes delish. Finger-licking good!"
> 
> "Oh, yeahhhh, that was great, Sis!"
> 
> A head tilt and mischievous eyes. "What do we say after our shiny little sister polishes your knob?"
> 
> With a serious air, her grown brother straightened. "Thank you very much for the blowjob, Sis."
> 
> The crowd of jocks tried to jockey themselves closer to the cheerleader, but her brother loomed tall. "Boys. Unless my little sister makes an arrangement with you, she is off all menus but mine."
> 
> A loud murmur of disappointment.
> 
> "You heard him, boys. I'm only on my brother's menu."
> 
> She looked at him expectantly.
> 
> "Oh, right. Remember, guys, whut happens in Jock Country—"
> 
> "Stays in Jock Country," was the ragged, almost reluctant response from the group.
> 
> Tara reached out and grabbed her brother's still hard cock with a sunny smile. "Mmm, still ready for more? Duz'm Big Bro wan'anudda blowie?"
> 
> "Shit, yeah, Sis!"


	2. Got to Have Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope Foal is hopeful about her father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope, one of the main Cheerleaders. Her arc.
> 
> Chapter one was the premise, setting things up. The chapters to follow will each follow a character's arc for weeks, maybe months before moving on to the next.

**Hope** **Faith** **Joy**

 _ **Funding Fathers  
**_ Chapter One **—** Got to Have Hope

Entering her front door, Hope Foal dutifully slipped off her Chinese-styled _ku-li_ thin-soled shoes and, since she had no homework, hung her backpack up in her alcove in the mudroom.

Taking a moment, stretching her toes and making 'fists' with them on the short-napped carpet, the girl sighed contentedly. After a day of being forced into footwear by various rules and regulations, it was heaven to finally re-connect with the world for longer than a few minutes at a time.  
  
Padding barefoot, she looked over the other alcoves. Her father and older sister, Faith, was home while her mother and younger sister, Joy, were still out. She smiled. Faith would be at the ranch's rear compound—likewise barefoot, possibly topless—practicing her archery skills. As she herself should be, but with Mom out, she figured she had enough time to try and lay some groundwork with her father.  
  
Hope shivered. The squads' scandalous new funding strategy revived a memory she thought longed buried.  
  
Being of mixed parentage and heritages—her mother was Rromani, her father a Hekawi Native American—their melded family values had long established a _clothing-optional_ lifestyle.  
  
Not _nudists_ , necessarily, just not always needing to _fully wear_ clothing within their own home and properties.  
  
So, if accepted into their home, past a certain point it was possible to see members of the family in varied states of undress, including totally naked.

One day, almost four years prior, Hope wandered into a bathroom to find her father running a hot bath. He was bent over, checking something, completely naked.

His _chxo'_ … his _kar_ … his wang… his Johnson… hung from a _very hairy_ scrotum to down about his knees. A good ten inches.

Looking at what appeared to be a hairy, freakish one-eyed elephant-like creature, ten-year-old Hope was scared, almost certainly emotionally scarred, by the sight. She rapidly scurried out of the room before she even understood what she had seen. Even in that brief of time, her _Dat's thing_ was seared into her brain. Unable to unsee it, she saw it whenever she closed her eyes. _His_ clothing-optional normally always included his loins covered. Especially around his daughters, so she knew it was unintentional on his part for her to have seen it.

For about the next week, the sight of it, the _memory_ of it, kept nagging at her until she finally managed through weeks of meditation—and thousands of hours of archery practice—to weaken the image's hold upon her mind.

However, it was now back in full force out of the necessity of wondering what it would be like to wrap her lips about her _Dat's karbaro_.

Unconsciously, Hope licked her lips.

This time of day, her father, Prancing Foal, would either be in his office or making a quick snack in the kitchen. She would check the latter first; it was closer, and if not there, she could grab her father a cold _lovina._

The girl checked herself in the mudroom's full-length mirror, adjusting how her cheer outfit's shell displayed her cleavage and push-up support of her perky breasts. She rolled up her skirt's waistband, emphasizing her midriff and lifting the hem to show off what she considered her best features: her dusky, long, and supple legs and perfectly formed bare feet.

Hope nodded approval. This would do. She was a cheerleader, she looked hot, and the uniform only served to magnify the effect.

Prancing Foal was known to have an active eye for beauty. Especially ladies, especially young. Never backing down from any lewd compliments or comments even if it turned out to be about someone's sisters or daughters.

Even if about his own.

He would remark, "All good looking girl-flesh that makes any effort to their looks deserves recognition."

Yes, she nodded, smiling, her father would appreciate her bringing him a cold beer in the afternoon looking like this.

Heading for the kitchen, once she left the _clothing-mandatory_ front rooms and reached the 'optional' space's cloakroom, she considered losing her top, then decided against it. She, all her sisters, and sometimes their mother were typically clad only in their panties—if that much—so their father always had eyefuls of feminine charms.

_No,_ she thought, _the cheer uniform is better fuel for fantasies and fetishes. I'll just throw a little extra_ oomph _into my_ Djinn Stroll _hips as I enter the room._

Reaching the fridge room outside the kitchen, she opened the fluids and drinks refrigerator—there were several, of various models and sizes, including a walk-in, each meant for a different temperature and purpose—Hope selected her father's preferred brand of beer before heading for her father's office on the second floor.

Once at the top of the stairs, the dusky noirette started her extra-hippy _Djinn Stroll_ down the hallway.

Hope was unclear _why_ her mother called it that. It was a purposeful saunter that caused the hems of dresses and skirts to flip up at either side. The shorter the hemline, the _snappier_ the flip.

She knew traveling Rroma dancers used it to cause _galbi_ gold coins sewn into the fringe of their dresses to _clank_ against each other—almost like the _jangle_ of old cowboy spurs—calling attention to their presence among the _gadjikane_ to entice men to visit their caravans at night.

That much she knew. But why _'djinn',_ her mother would never say.

_"Dat,"_ the cheerleader said when she saw her father standing by one of the panoramic office windows, "The afternoon is so hot, I thought you'd enjoy a cold _lovina."_

He reached for the beer, "Thank you, _Bitsi’._ You're looking exceptionally fine today."

"Thank you, _Dat,_ " Hope stepped next to him, turning to face the direction. After three minutes, "What are we looking at?"

He chuckled. "I'm not sure what _we're_ looking at. _I'm_ watching the movement of the sun as I work to recenter my _iiʼ sizíinii." My soul._

_"Ahso._ Sounds time-consuming."

"Done correctly, one hardly notices the time."

His daughter nodded. They both fell into an easy silence as they continued to peer through the glass for long minutes.

"So, _Bitsi’,_ what do you want?"

"What makes you think I want anything?"

"Please. You're _here_ instead of the rear compound with your bows, practicing, risking your mother's ire.

"Thus you _must_ want something of me. What?"

The moment upon her, Hope blushed.

"I'm not sure how to ask this…"

"Just say what is on your mind. Clearly and straight-forward I've generally found to be the best."

_"Err, ehmmm…,_ Wouldn't it be easier to center your _iiʼ sizíinii_ with _hastą́ą́ ’ahóodziil?" Sexual energy?_

"It _is_ more powerful than simple contemplation alone."

"But… we're not alone, are we?"

Her father turned, facing her, his greying temples momentarily catching the afternoon sunlight as he looked down on his daughter from his half-head height advantage.

"What are you saying, _Bitsi’?_ "

"I–If you wish, I could _help_ you with your recentering…"

"What–do you have in mind, _Bitsi’?_ "

"Well… t–the cheer squad is looking to raise funds…"

"How?"

"We're offering b–blowjobs—"

"I see. Indiscriminate blowjobs?"

"No, _Dat._ Extremely discriminate."

"Ohso?"

"Our fathers."

"Like me?"  
  
 _"Aooʼ, Dat,—yes, Dad—_ Exactly like you–you, exactly."

"Fundraising?"

_"Aooʼ, Dat,"_

"How much?"

Surprised her father seemed to be going along and not blowing one of his major gaskets which usually ended up with one or more of his children grounded, Hope met his eyes.

"Seventy dollars a go."

"Seventy, eh?"

_"Aooʼ, Dat."_

"Steep–,"

Hope readied herself for either haggling or grounding.

"–I've got a counter-offer for you…"

Picking up his phone and hitting a speed-dial, "Jennifer? Prancing Foal. Please set up a debit card for my daughter, Hope's, account. No limits on deposits, withdrawals, or balance."

To Hope, "How does thirty-five hundred _per month_ for your _unlimited_ services sound?"

Shocked, eyes wide, it took his daughter a couple heartbeats to process. "T–Three thousand-f–five hundred? _Per month_?"

"Anytime I want that doesn't interfere with school activities and your archery. Although you can always take a few breaks with that.

"Well? My financial aide is waiting…."

"Yes, Dad!" English, a courtesy in case she could be heard over the phone, "it's a deal!"

_Thirty-five hundred! That's Bonnie-level money!_

"Set up a recurring monthly amount. Label it as 'allowance'. Hope should have full privileges with her account. Set no alerts. No need for parental signatures. No need to bother us about anything.

"Yes, that's right. Okay, I understand, and thanks for pointing that out. Please send a courier with papers to be signed and the loaded card ready for activation.

"Thank you, Jennifer."

He hung up just before, on tiptoes, Hope threw her arms about his neck.

_"Aahéheeʼ, Dat!!"_

"You're welcome, _Bitsi’._ I was reminded while your account will have no restrictions _at the bank_ or online, various ATM machines have their own limitations.

"Machines in-network are limited to five-hundred per machine, three thousand per day. Machines out of network each have their own much lower limits, so be sure to check with each before use. Anyway, Just keep in mind you've got to earn it each month. Also, best not to say anything to your sisters or mother—"

"I've already heard enough, Prances," Grace, his wife, Hope's mother, said as she stepped into the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This reflects most of my headcanon for Hope and her family. Not all, but most.
> 
> Somewhere along the line when I needed to martialize the cheerleaders and they needed weapons, Hope became an archer with bow and arrows and it's developed into one of her defining traits *in my headcanons*. No canon support.
> 
> As you can see, I found unnamed background characters suitable to be Hope's sisters at Florida Spring Break in The Golden Years. No, nothing canon says they are related to Hope… only our eyes!
> 
> As the Hekawi Native American People are a fictional Nation (F-Troop, anyone?), I'm currently using Navajo as a stand-in for their language, which may eventually include elements of Apache and Cherokee. Apologies to anyone from those great nations. Same for my Romani.

**Author's Note:**

> My headcanon for the MHS cheerleaders, in general, is the year before Kim got to MHS, ALL the cheerleaders were elitist and seniors, who all graduated at once. Kim then had to quickly run auditions to rebuild staggered-grade rosters, which we see in canon.
> 
> This also explains why none in the squads were able to wear the senior uniforms (S4) until seniors themselves.
> 
> Mention is made of a Flora fixing the meals. This is part of another of my many headcanons where Zita's mother, Flora Flores, is the maid/housekeeper (with benefits in selected fics) for the very busy and affluent Possibles. She may also have served as their nanny when the kids were younger. We never saw her as such in canon because either she was not live-in, and/or has specific hours only working weekdays during school hours, so she's off-shift by the time. And frankly, we don't spend a lot of time at Casa de Possible, so we don't even need to be talking about AUs for it to work.
> 
> Additionally, my preferred flavor for Zita and her family is Brazilian, so they speak Portuguese.
> 
> Tara Flagg—you can find my blog on the KP Wiki to see how I've dealt with Tara through the years and have recently arrived at this highly suggested-by-canon conclusion. Basically both she and Brick have the same color hair and eyes, are both "breezy minded", and because at graduation Tara sat next to Zita Flores, it is implied Tara's last name starts with an F…
> 
> Marcella as a mute in my headcanons comes from 1)I gave her the surname Marceau, Marcel being a famous mime, 2) she's no listed VA and never had *solo* lines, and 3) gives her more interesting characteristics than, 'just another cheerleader'.


End file.
